


grasping at pearls

by achilleees



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cigarettes, First Dates, M/M, Meet-Cute, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: And… Jesus. Shiro gets it, really he does, but whenever people bitch to him about generic messages likeHeyorNice to meet you, he kind of wants to smack them in the face. It would be a different kind of suck, he acknowledges that, but at least they have the hope that comes from uncertainty - their soulmate could be nice, or not; smart, or not; funny, or not. His soulmate is just a douchebag.But no, that’s not fair. At least he’ll know the moment he meets his soulmate. He doesn’t have the risk of meeting his soulmate and gliding by without realizing it,HiandHiand neither of them ever knowing what they just missed out on.





	grasping at pearls

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno man. I wrote this like 3+ months ago planning on adding more scenes for pacing later and I just… don’t see that happening so I’m just gonna post it now because I crave validation (too real?).
> 
> Fyi I know NOTHING about sailing so if it even remotely seems like I do, that's a big win for me.
> 
> You should totally come find me on [tumblr](http://achilleees.tumblr.com/) if you want. I don't actually post anything Voltron but I'm always down to talk Sheith?

Shiro keeps his words covered whenever possible. He always has. No one ever had to tell him outright, not even when he was too young to know what they meant. The way his mother sighed every time she looked at them told him enough.

He slaps a bandage over them when he goes shirtless in public. No one asks, although he gets a lot of curious looks. Allura tells him all the time how often their other friends pester her about it.

And… Jesus. He gets it, really he does, but whenever people bitch to him about generic messages like _Hey_ or _Nice to meet you_ , he kind of wants to smack them in the face. It would be a different kind of suck, he acknowledges that, but at least they have the hope that comes from uncertainty - their soulmate could be nice, or not; smart, or not; funny, or not. His soulmate is just a douchebag.

But no, that’s not fair. At least he’ll know the moment he meets his soulmate. He doesn’t have the risk of meeting his soulmate and gliding by without realizing it, _Hi_ and _Hi_ and neither of them ever knowing what they just missed out on.

There’s that, at least.

 

 _You need this job, you need this job, you need this job_ , Shiro tells himself, rushing to the table to assure the hyperactive toddler’s indifferent mother that he would handle the broken glass.

Some days are worse than others. This day is doing its best to set a new record on that front.

“Why are there so many fucking teenagers,” he mutters to Matt as he passes by him with the dustpan of glass shards on his way to fetch the mop.

“I think the theater rehearsal just let out at the high school,” Matt says. “Little bastards better tip or I’m keying their cars.”

Shiro laughs. “Fair,” he says. He mops quickly and then pastes on his broad, even smile, approaching table nine.

“Hi -” he says, preparing to launch into an apology for making them wait.

“Motherfucker, it’s about time,” says the scowling man, lounging back in his seat, his feet kicked out into the aisle. “You know how long I’ve been waiting?”

“You’re such a dick,” says his companion, but his tone is approving.

Shiro’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“I’m… sorry about the wait,” he says finally, his voice coming out raspy. “We’re a little understaffed right now. Can I get you some drinks to start?”

“Two iced teas. Are they free?” says Shiro’s fucking soulmate with a nasty smile. “Better comp us something after making us wait.”

Shiro manages to hold his smile, somehow. “I think I can arrange that,” he says.

“Good,” says the man, and then waves Shiro away dismissively.

Shiro concentrates very hard on walking normally, one foot in front of the other, all the way to the back room.

“Whoa,” Matt says, seeing his face. “What’s up?”

“The guy at table nine - the one with the shorter hair,” Shiro says. “You know him?”

Matt peers out. “Who, Sendak? Yeah, he’s in my bio class. Total prick. Why?”

Shiro doesn’t say anything.

“ _Ohh_ …” Matt grins, shaking his head. “You can do better, man. Hope that’s not your type.”

“It’s not,” Shiro says, feeling ill.

 

Allura is the first to notice his preoccupation, nudging him under the desk in his magic & myth class and shooting him a concerned look.

He shakes his head slightly, grimacing.

After class, she drags him to the library cafe and sits him down. “Okay, what happened?”

He puts his head down on the table.

“That bad,” Allura comments, standing up. “I’ll get you a chai.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, and never has he felt more nostalgic for their former relationship. Why isn’t this perfect girl his soulmate, instead of - ugh. _Ugh_.

She slides the oversized mug across the table to him and raises an eyebrow.

“Do you know Sendak?” Shiro asks.

“I know _of_ him,” she says slowly. “Seems like a real douchebag. He doesn’t treat girls well. I suppose he thinks because he’s good at football, he doesn’t have to.”

Shiro groans, burying his face in his hands.

“Why?” she says, laughing a little and tugging his hands from his face. “What’s going on?”

“What do his words say?” Shiro says, muffled into his hands.

“I want to say it’s something basic, like hello or whatever,” Allura says. “Why do…” Her eyes widen in realization. “Wait, noo…”

“Oh, but yes,” Shiro says.

Allura bites her lip. “Are you sure?”

Shiro tugs aside his collar, reminding her of the words that she’s one of the rare people to have seen. “Not a lot of ambiguity,” he says.

“Oh, right,” she says, grimacing. “You’re sure.”

“Yeah,” he says glumly. He puts his head on his arms on the table.

Allura pets his hair. “Okay, let’s think about a bright side here.”

“Good luck,” Shiro says.

“If he’s your soulmate, that means he can’t be that bad,” Allura says. “You’re such a good person, Shiro, all the way down. That means there’s something in him that’s good too.”

Shiro ponders this. “You’re sure it’s not the opposite?” he says.

Allura laughs. “Trust me,” she says gently, touching his hand. “I’m sure.”

 

He tries to give Sendak a chance, like Allura says. _Soulmates_ is a big word, and the universe can’t possibly be flat wrong, can it? Surely there’s something soft there, deep underneath that douchey exterior. _Surely_.

The opportunity for some fact-finding comes quickly when Sendak comes back to IHOP with his prick buddy. They sit at the same table, and thankfully there’s no disasters occurring that day so Shiro pops up at their table a minute after they sit down, setting down their water glasses.

“Hi, I’m Shiro. Anything I can get you to drink today?” He makes sure to level Sendak with his most charming smile, the one Allura says she first fell in love with.

“Iced tea,” Sendak says. “Chicken and waffles.” He tosses his menu onto the table.

Shiro picks it up. “Good choice,” he says. “Can’t go wrong with chicken and waffles.”

It’s not his best work, because Sendak’s not giving him a whole lot of material to work with, but he doesn’t think he deserves the look of disdain Sendak levels him with, either. “Yeah,” Sendak says slowly, like he’s humoring him. “That’s why I ordered it.”

“Well.” Shiro says, fighting to keep his smile even. “Good choice.” He looks to the other guy. “You know what you want yet?”

“Iced tea and the spicy chicken ranch sandwich,” the other guy says. He at least has the decency to pass Shiro the menu directly, although he doesn’t bother looking at him while he does.

“I’ll be back with your iced tea right away,” Shiro says, teeth gritted.

When he gets back, Sendak is just getting up to go to the bathroom. Never a better time than this, is there?

“Hey,” Shiro says, hesitating by the table and looking down at Sendak’s friend. “Do you happen to go to the Academy? I thought I might recognize your friend…”

“Yeah,” says the guy. “Juniors.” He sips his iced tea, seeming to be finished with the conversation.

“Oh?” Shiro says, doggedly invested now. “Maybe I’ve seen him in one of my politics classes? Or at a party, or…?”

Sendak slides back into the booth. “What’s the deal?”

“Dude’s wondering if he’s seen you around the Academy at a party or whatever,” says the friend.

Sendak’s eyes flick to Shiro’s prosthetic arm. “No offense, but I doubt we’re frequenting the same parties, buddy,” he says.

There’s a weird beat pause where Shiro can’t believe what he just heard, then he forces a laugh. “Yeah, probably not,” he agrees.

He could give Sendak the benefit of the doubt – it’s fairly obvious Shiro isn’t involved in team athletics around the school, because the school would make such a big fucking deal about it if he were. But somehow he doesn’t feel generous enough for that.

“I’ll be back soon with your food,” he says, and escapes.

If that’s his soulmate, he doesn’t want one.

 

Shiro trudges into the gas station, shaking out his umbrella right inside the door. He slides off his hat and stuffs it into his pocket.

His casual cigarette habit is getting less casual, if he’s trekking a mile in a freak thunderstorm to buy a pack. He resolves to ignore this.

He walks up to the counter and finds a boy there, maybe a few years younger than Shiro, with his feet propped up on the counter and a book in his lap. Shiro can’t read the title, but it’s intimidatingly thick.

“Excuse me,” Shiro says.

The boy looks up. “Motherfucker, it’s about time,” he says. “You know how long I’ve been waiting?”

Shiro’s breath catches in his throat.

The boy’s eyes are pretty and bright, like the color of the sea after a storm. He’s lean and fit and beautiful, and Shiro is so instantly smitten it hurts.

Still. What kind of fucking greeting is that?

“Pardon?” he says.

“You’re my relief, right?” says the boy. He glances down at Shiro’s polo shirt.

“No,” Shiro says.

The boy groans. “Fucking great,” he says. “I’ve been here since 6AM because _both_ of the pricks who come on after me couldn’t be assed to show up. Now this polo-wearing pretty boy walks in and gets my hopes up.” He flashes a grin, though, clearly joking. “Anyway, sorry, how can I help you?”

“Pack of Lucky Strikes,” Shiro says slowly, trying not to get his hopes up. This guy isn’t Sendak - he’s miles away from Sendak - but that doesn’t mean Shiro has any idea who he is or what he’s like. “What are you reading?”

“Ovid’s Metamorphoses,” says the boy, turning and scanning the wall of cigarettes.

“Oh,” Shiro kind of… sighs, doing his best not to swoon. “That’s cool.”

“I’m very cool,” says the boy with a slight smile. “Anything else?”

Shiro bites his lip. This could be his fucking soulmate. If he won’t appreciate Shiro flagrantly hitting on him, who will?

He leans against the counter, smile widening. “Too corny to ask if your number is on the table?”

The boy jerks back a little, startled, and then he gives Shiro a long onceover, lips curling up as if he likes what he sees. “Pretty corny,” he says. “That line work for you?”

“I’ll let you know in a minute,” Shiro says, now full-on grinning.

“Oh, and he’s quick too,” the boy says, leaning back against the back counter and crossing his arms, settling in for a long conversation. “How do I know you’re not trying to get in with me for the free cigs?”

“Yeah, I bet you get that a lot,” Shiro says. “What you get for having such a glamorous job.”

The boy snorts. “You know it.” He smirks. “How glam’s your job? Anything worth my while?”

“Waiter at IHOP,” Shiro says.

“Hey, free pancakes,” the boy says. “I’m in.”

Shiro unlocks his phone and slides it across the counter, beaming like an idiot. The boy picks it up, enters something, and hands it back.

Shiro looks down at the screen. “Keith?”

The boy smiles like he likes the sound of his name on Shiro’s lips. “Mm.”

“I’m Shiro,” says Shiro. “I’ll text you.”

“You better,” says Keith, and tosses the Lucky Strikes at him. “On the house.”

 

Their first date, he takes Keith sailing. Yeah, maybe he’s trying to impress him, what of it?

“So you’re telling me that I could just walk in here and take a boat?” Keith says, as Shiro checks the lines and pulls them off the winches.

“You’re supposed to put down your Academy Racing Card in the slot for the boat you’re taking out,” Shiro says. “But technically I guess nothing’s stopping you.”

“Man,” Keith says. “Wish I’d known that before.”

Shiro looks up at him. “Would you have acted any differently with that knowledge?”

“No, but it gives me such a feeling of power,” Keith drawls. “I love it.”

Shiro grins. He’s never grinned this much in his life before, and he’s a generally happy person. “Well, now you know.”

“What a gift,” Keith says, watching as Shiro eyes the Windex and angles the boat into the wind.

“Ready?” Shiro says, and hoists the sails.

Keith’s tank top flutters with the sails, strap falling off his shoulder in a way Shiro would love to let distract him if he weren’t caught up in cleating the halyard off.

“Wow,” Keith says. “I feel like such a cliché, but this is really working for me right now. Your shtick is A+, for such an objectively terrible flirter.”

“If it matters, you’re the only person I’ve ever taken sailing,” Shiro says.

There’s a pause; Shiro hazards a glance over at Keith and finds him smiling, small and pleased. “Well, it’s working,” he says. “It’s cool watching you do all this… stuff.”

“The other guys on the sailing team always say it’s a good way to get girls,” Shiro says. “They say I should teach you the basics to show off.”

“Eh, unnecessary,” Keith says. “Just hit me with some nautical terms and I’ll be duly impressed.”

“Prepare to tack,” Shiro says, pushing his sunglasses up to give Keith his best bedroom eyes. “Run the rudder and keel the mainsail. Hoist the jib cutter to starboard.”

Keith laughs. “Did any of that mean anything?”

“Each word individually?” Shiro says. “Yes. Collectively? Not a damn thing.”

“Love it,” Keith says. “Absolutely cracking, mate.”

“Well, you’re just going British,” Shiro says.

“Cheerio,” Keith says.

 

Afterwards, they walk along the harbor eating churros. Shiro can’t stop watching Keith, the way he keeps brushing his bangs out of his face, the way his eyes crinkle with his smile, the way he doesn’t move out of the way for men who are coming the opposite direction.

“So what’s next on the _show off to Keith_ schedule?” Keith says. “A night at the opera? A meet and greet with the entire roster of the Marmora Blades? Home-cooked lobster by candlelight?”

“Do you… want any of that?” Shiro says.

“No,” says Keith. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to home-cooked lobster, but nah.”

Shiro laughs. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, smoothing away the same lock of hair Keith keeps brushing at.

 _“You’re_ lucky I’m cute,” Keith says.

Shiro kisses him, right there on the street, after about half a date and twenty years of never having felt the bubbly feeling in his stomach that’s overwhelming him right then. He’s always kind of thought people were making it up, inventing something that doesn’t exist because they want to feel… important, or special, or maybe that they just want to _feel_. Now he knows.

“I’m lucky I’m cute,” Keith murmurs when he releases him, holding his bicep and staying close enough that Shiro can’t resist ducking down and kissing him again.

Keith doesn’t object when Shiro tangles their fingers together when they kept walking. “Going to make eating hard,” is all he says.

“You’ve got a mouth, don’t you?” Shiro says, dipping his head down and taking a bite of a churro directly out of the paper cone.

“Hot,” Keith deadpans.

“You know it,” Shiro says. “So what’s your deal, anyway?”

“I’m a freshman at the Garrison, planning on double-majoring in Greek language and astrophysics,” Keith says.

“Really?”

“Ouk esti leousi kai andrasin orkia pista,” Keith says.

Shiro stares at him.

“There are no binding pacts between lions and men,” Keith says. He smirks at the look on Shiro’s face. “Hot, right? That’s why I study Greek. For the babes.”

“Winch the transom,” Shiro says.

“Exactly,” Keith says, grinning. “Only child, orphan, don’t want any sympathy about it.”

Shiro nods.

Keith likes that response, he can tell. “You already know about my glamorous day job. Twice a week I do Krav Maga. And… god, what else do you want to know? I don’t particularly like piña coladas or getting caught in the rain, if it matters.”

Shiro laughs.

Keith scratches his cheek. “I don’t know if I have a favorite food? I like fruit, I guess. Unripe, preferably. Mangos that crunch like an apple.”

“That’s disgusting,” Shiro says.

“So I’ve heard,” Keith says. “And I like my boys tall, dark and very handsome. Sailing experience is a must.” He squeezes Shiro’s hand.

Shiro squeezes back. “I’m lucky I’m cute,” he says.

 

Shiro’s face already aches from smiling like an idiot all day long when he glances to the group waiting by the hostess stand, but his mood lifts that much more when he sees Keith among them, skulking in the back with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I got this one,” Shiro tells Pidge when she starts to head over. He walks over and leans forward, elbows on the stand. “Well, hey there. Can I help you?” He makes sure to aim his smile towards Keith.

“My asshole friends are assholes,” says Keith, like that’s all the explanation Shiro could possibly need. Which is pretty much true, actually. Shiro is really, really hoping Matt doesn’t piece together who just walked in, because that way lies abject humiliation.

The fact that Keith already told his friends about Shiro, even without knowing about their matching words, makes fucking fireworks go off in Shiro’s sternum.

“Hi, asshole friends,” he says with a wave. “I’m Shiro.”

“He’s so cute,” says the only girl. “That is… deeply irritating.”

“Why’s that?” Shiro says, grinning.

“Keith is a dick who puts zero effort into his appearance or demeanor,” says the girl. “He doesn’t deserve cute charming boyfriends.”

Keith, to Shiro’s delight, goes faintly red.

“Good thing I like dicks,” Shiro says.

Nearby, Pidge snorts.

“And if that’s what he looks like putting zero effort into his appearance, I don’t think my heart is ready for the real thing,” he finishes.

“Flatterer,” Keith says.

“God’s honest truth, babe,” says Shiro. He straightens up when he sees his manager turn the corner. “Let me show you to your table, and you can take a really long time choosing your drinks while Keith introduces us.”

Keith makes a ‘lead on’ gesture.

At the table, he stands with his little notepad out, taking his pencil from behind his ear. “So I’m Shiro.”

“This is Hunk, Rolo, Nyma, and Lance,” says Keith. “They’re all fucking liars and you shouldn’t believe a word they say.”

“I suspect Keith is worried about what we might reveal to his boy,” drawls Rolo.

“I mean, can you blame him?” says Lance, grinning.

Keith rubs his temples.

“We’ll be good,” promises Hunk.

“Che, maybe you will,” says Rolo. “So, Shiro, what’s your deal? This your full-time gig?”

“Nah, I’m a junior at the Academy,” Shiro says, endeared at Keith’s friends getting to know him on Keith’s behalf. A little early for the shovel talk, but he’s so charmed by Keith he doesn’t mind. “Double major in econ and politics.”

“Ooh, Mullet-head finally landed a smart one,” says Lance.

“I have gone on one date with him,” says Keith, starting to look genuinely annoyed. “Please stop talking.”

Nyma pats his head. “Normally I’d sympathize with your concern about freaking the boy into fleeing, but with the way he is looking at you with literal hearts in his eyes, I am electing to ignore you.”

Shiro shrugs. All true.

“She’s right, even Ulaz doesn’t look at you with that much adoration,” says Rolo. He nudges Nyma. “How come you don’t watch me like that?”

“You’re not as pretty as Keith, darling,” Nyma says, patting his hand.

Shiro laughs, but his focus is caught. “Ulaz?”

“Don’t worry, he’s not even remotely a threat,” Nyma says. “The boy’s been in love with Keith for years, it’s quite sweet.”

Keith looks pained. “It’s not like I’ve done anything to lead him on,” he mutters.

Shiro smiles. For all that the others speak flippantly about it, he can see the genuine guilt Keith feels about this unknown boy’s unrequited feelings. It says something about him as a person that Shiro likes.

Keith is just… so many degrees of magnitude above Sendak.

“Planning on serving any of your tables today, Shirogane?” Pidge whispers as she walks past him, though her tone is teasing.

“Shit, right,” Shiro says. “I gotta - I’ll be right back. You all need any drinks, for real?”

“Just water for now,” says Keith. “Also, I am so sorry.” He grimaces.

Shiro smiles at him, not even bothering to say out loud that he doesn’t mind because it has to be so obvious in his expression. Keith seems to get it, because his face softens, a smile curling his own lips.

As soon as he starts to walk away, he heard Nyma behind him cooing to Keith about how cute they are.

They are pretty cute, he thinks smugly.

 

Shiro gets complacent, which is dumb. Hangs around Keith’s table too much, gets teased by his friends, teases them back. Vitally, forgets to warn Matt to keep his goddamn mouth shut.

It’s during a quiet lull that Matt swaggers over and slings his arm over Shiro’s shoulders, though he has to stretch up to do it. “Make some new friends, Shirogane?”

“New friends, and new _friend_ ,” says Lance, waggling his eyebrows and looking pointedly toward Keith.

“Wait wait wait,” Matt says, and Shiro’s heart drops into his stomach. Oh, fuck. “You’re already inviting the infamous soulmate to hang in your space? Jesus, moving fast much?”

The table is quiet. It’s Nyma that breaks it, but the way Keith’s accusing eyes bore into Shiro’s says enough. “Soulmate?” she says.

“Holy shit,” Matt says, laughing helplessly. “That has to be some kind of record. Guinness book of records for most awkward entrance. I’m gonna - go over there.” He beats a hasty retreat.

“Soulmate?” Keith says quietly.

Shiro inhales.

“Outside,” says Keith, climbing over the back of the booth and gesturing sharply to the door, tone brooking no room for argument.

“I’ll take my 15,” says Shiro.

 

He’s already shaking a cigarette from the carton before he gets out the door, hands clumsy as he fumbles with his lighter. He really hadn’t thought he would fuck this up so quickly.

Keith’s leaning against the wall smoking his own cigarette; his face is aggressively blank as he swings his gaze up to meet Shiro’s. “Show me,” he says.

Shiro wordlessly pulls aside his collar, stretching it far enough to strain the seams so Keith can view the full text. “You?” he says.

“What do you fucking think,” Keith says, shoving up his shirtsleeve and lifting his arm so Shiro can read the black _Excuse me_ imprinted there.

Despite the situation, Shiro feels a thrill in his stomach.

Keith takes in a long drag of his cigarette, every motion clipped and taut and angry.

“Why are you so mad?” Shiro says.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Keith shoots back, not missing a beat.

Shiro sighs, drawing from his cigarette to give himself time to think. He doesn’t know, really, just had a gut feeling and went with it. “It’s not like I thought you wouldn’t find out,” he says. “I mean, I assumed we would be getting naked sooner rather than later. I was going to tell you before it came to that.”

Keith gestures for him to continue, not looking particularly impressed by that excuse.

“The week before I met you, some other guy greeted me with the exact same words,” Shiro says. “Some of my friends know him, apparently he’s a total douchebag. I spent a week terrified that he was the other half of my soul. When I met you…”

“You were terrified all over again?” Keith says dryly.

“No!” Shiro says. “Shit, I was fucking thrilled. But meeting Sendak taught me, I mean - anyone can say the words, you know? The words don’t mean anything. I mean, he and I are wordmates too, and maybe we’re the real ones, and you and me aren’t. You know? How would I ever know?”

Keith hums thoughtfully.

Shiro continues, emboldened. “I guess I wanted to know if I could know you - if we could know each other - without the specter of, like, _eternity_ over our heads. If we could like each other just as much without being pressured by destiny into it.” He sighs. “I don’t know. It sounds stupid. I wasn’t really thinking.”

Keith watches him, face still blank but no longer as tight. It seems like a good sign.

“Please say something,” says Shiro. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to know that.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I guess.” He rubs his arm where his words rest under his shirt. “My whole life, I’ve been resigned to the fact that it’s statistically likely I’d never recognize my wordmate. I’ve had to accept that. I never even thought about the possibility of meeting my soulmate and having them realize it and not tell me.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, gutted. He feels like such a fucking dick.

“But, I mean.” Keith shrugs one shoulder. “Like you said, I do believe you planned to tell me. You definitely wouldn’t have turned me away if I said I wanted to bone. So I can’t be that mad.”

Shiro stares at him. “You’re _amazing_ ,” he says.

“More amazing than Sendak?” Keith says, smiling a little.

“Fortunately, I see no reason to build a frame of reference,” Shiro says, reaching up and touching his face, smoothing his thumb over that high cheekbone.

Keith chuckles. “You sure know how to sweet talk, buddy.”

“I can be more romantic,” Shiro offers.

Keith reaches up, resting his hand over Shiro’s words through his shirt. “Nah, s’fine. I think I get the idea.”


End file.
